


Changeling

by HeartOfInk



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Fae, Apples for anyone who gets them, Brother/Sister Incest, Changelings, Cultural Differences, Dark Fantasy, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Faeries Made Them Do It, Fairy Tale Elements, Harmful Viewpoints, I am why we can't have nice things, Pay No Attention to the Cat Mage Behind the Curtain, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red Riding Hood Elements, Self-Hatred, Semi-Obscure Fairy Tale References, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Twincest, Unseelie Court, Victim Blaming, What No I Don't Have Kyle Issues, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:19:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfInk/pseuds/HeartOfInk
Summary: He hadn't meant to get trapped in the Faerie world, let alone serving such a selfish monarch, but Allen had long ago stopped questioning Fate.Not that it did him much good, in the end.





	1. The Summoning

.

His eyes filled with green. He walked among the barks, feet stepping on moss and trees of yesteryear, feasting his eyes with the ochres and yellows and the colored shocks of flower's petals. He tilted his head upwards, smiling as he saw the iridiscent mosaic. The trees were easily several houses tall, reaching up to the golden rays as if wanting to trap it. Bird songs came in lulls and bursts, the improvised tempo working together as well as any melody.

"Allen!" It was said with such energy that he could feel the flapping of so many birds in the distance, black against the red-gold sky dotted with pink clouds.

She appeared then, so suddenly he would swear blind he had lost those few seconds of time to an unseen enchanter. She crossed her arms in a gesture of impatience, wood-colored eyes narrowing.

His sister, barely on the cusp of adulthood, had given their father many headaches in her youth. And how could she not, when she disdained the common practices of her fellow women, preferring to pick fights around the village. Wearing purpling bruises with pride, drinking until one couldn't be sure if it was blood or wine running through her veins. Refusing to marry or even to wear skirts, preferring the practicality of clothing worn by males.

He would smile every time a small argument broke out at the table, their similarities far more than simply brown hair and eyes. They were simply too much alike.

He would be forever grateful to his father for his endless patience. He knew he wasn't an easy child. A picky eater, complaining about bread being boring, food being too salty, the taste making his teeth shiver. He hated the sound of church bells, which were loud, much too loud, forcing him to cover his ears.

He looked nothing like the rest of his family. Allen was fair of hair, clear eyed, bird boned. He was as pretty as any girl in the village, with his blond hair that covered his pointed ears.

To give a thing a name was to give it power, and to call a thing by its name made you have power over it.

True names were a practice widely known yet not understood by the folk in his village, instead opting to name their offspring when they started showing some personality. And if you knew someone's nature — knew their Name — you could control them.

Babies usually weren't named until their first birthday. They had to prove themselves capable of surviving a full year, before they were a person and invited into the family.

Germaine, loud of voice. Allen, beloved.

He tended to call her Bell, to her endless chagrin and amused smiles.

The woods were lovely, dark and deep. The sun was sinking down, behind the tops of the trees. They should be returning soon, before the sun went down completely and all that remained was the pitch-black darkness and the howling of wolves.

Allen turned around at her voice, already beginning to make his way back, when he stopped. A blue-green dot of light had materialized a few feet to his left. He had never seen anything like it before.

"Where are you going?"

He just wanted to get a closer look at the thing. A will-o'-the-wisp? He couldn't sure, having never learned much about them in particular. If there was one, there were others.

When he was a step away from the light, it flickered out. Allen watched as more little lights appeared in the distance. A line.  _Follow me_.

He did, searching for the next multicolored light, ignoring Germaine's shouts. The sooner he saw, the sooner he would go back, and he would apologize for scaring his sister and being out in the woods so late.

There was something in the air. Something familiar and cloyingly sweet, distinct from the green scent of the woods. He heard something, a new sound, too discordant to be considered music. It sounded like apple leaves and the sunset and winter chill, flowers and death and rebirth. He mouthed the song as he took a few more steps. "Lu li la, lu li la..."

It started quiet, then it grew louder and louder until-

Light filled his vision.

And suddenly he was somewhere else, he couldn't see where, full of mirrors. He could glimpse distorted reflections, flashes of things out of the corners of his eyes that could have been himself or just as easily something else entirely.

"Germaine?" he called out, slowly coming back to himself. His voice echoed through the place until the word lost all meaning.

It was disorienting. His palms hit the reflective surface more often than not, instead of a path, and he saw his own frightened eyes and pale face looking back at him more than a few times. He didn't know which way to go.

He ran, breathing heavily, heart pounding faster and faster and-

He found himself surrounded by strange people in even stranger attire. He was confused, too, by the men's speech, a language he knew but not the one he was used to. The words, the grammar, the accent.

One of them crouched down, speaking slowly and deliberatedly. "Je suis François." he said, pointing at his chest. "Tu t'appelles comment?" When the boy didn't answer, he resorted to saying, "Prénom?"

His eyes were burning. Where was he? Where was his sister? "Je m'appelle Allen. Où suis-je?"

"Vous êtes à Lucifenia."

The boy stopped short, unable to recognize the name of the place. He had never gone far from his village, how was he supposed to go home? He hadn't meant to appear here, that had been an accident.

"Is there anyone who can take me back home?"

François and another man exchanged grim looks between each other. That made Allen's stomach churn.

"Oui. La Princesse, Riliane Lucifen of the Unseelie Court."

"Haven't you learned it is unwise to summon us?"

Allen turned around. He had heard no footsteps, yet behind him was a young woman there, about his age. Fair of hair, blue-eyed. Black flower clips kept her bangs from obscuring her vision, her pale orange dress dotted with yellow lenten roses and winter aconite.

What Allen wanted to know was, why did she look like him?

* * *

This... this was unusual. When her name had first been spoken, she'd only been a bit annoyed-didn't the idiots know any better than to summon her? Apparently not, since there she was. The boy, on the other hand... that was interesting. He looked almost exactly like her-slight differences in structure, as expected from a boy, but the gold of his hair and the blue of his eyes matched hers perfectly. She'd looked at herself in the mirror more than enough to be able to recognize the exact hue.

The men were looking at her with bated breath, as if expecting her to lay a curse on them for daring to speak her name aloud.

"You can go," she declared imperiously, inclining her head a little to the left. When they failed to move, seeming stunned by their good fortune, she could feel her face twisting slightly. "Well? Off with you, before I change my mind!"

Within moments, the sounds of their rushed footsteps were gone, and she turned back to the boy, smiling. He was shaking a little bit, staring at her with both curiosity and fear.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she said, smile growing wider. "I'm not going to _hurt_ you, silly boy. In fact, I rather like you. How would you like to see the fae realm before you go?"

His eyes widened a little bit more.

"Yes."


	2. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen gets introduced to the faerie world.

Snow hugged him like a newborn, soft and clingy. The world was covered by a white, thick blanket, footsteps and paw prints crisscrossing each other around the labyrinth of paths. Silvery flakes danced down against a dove grey sky, the colors somehow seeming richer than they had at home.

"Winter?" he muttered, trying to avoid thinking how cold he was. "It was springtime just a second ago..."

"This isn't _your_ world, silly goose," she replied in an airy tone. "This is the fae realm. Why would you expect it to follow your human expectations? Your world is the strange one, not ours. Now, hurry up, I don't like to be kept waiting. You have a lot to see here, you know."

Well, there was no need to be so rude.

Lanterns were placed every two trees or so, giving everything a yellow hue. He did his best to follow her at the same pace.

The leaves on the gnarled trees had frozen, creating detailed sculptures, art in every vein. Vibrant flowers crept upon the barks, pink and yellow and green. There were some bigger than his hand, moonflowers just starting to open, something that might have been lavender were its color not so dark.

He saw a couple of white haired children running around, strands of light coming out of their hands. He saw strange hair colors and beastly traits.

He saw deer with feathery wings, eating the barks of the trees. He saw cats with antlers trotting behind a redheaded woman. He saw bears that seemed to be burning on the inside. He saw blue foxes.

He saw so many impossibilities just with a glance, it was almost enough to forget he was freezing. He was smiling in no time. He hoped Germaine would follow him here, this wasn't something he could just describe.

"What is your name?"

"Didn't you hear it earlier? Or are you deaf?" she asked, her eyes flicking back to look at him before she continued across the snowy ground as if he'd never spoken. She walked as if completely unhindered by the snowdrifts, the hem of her dress never seeming to dampen no matter how much of the glittering white it dragged across. She seemed entirely otherworldly, in that moment, like the fae she was.

"My name," she finally declared, "is Riliane Lucifen, Princess of the Unseelie Court. You would do well to remember that. No one would dare harm someone I've taken a liking to."

Riliane. What a pretty name.

Wasn't he lucky, to have won the favor of a- no, of _the_ Princess, even if he wouldn't stay for long?

He pulled up the soaked hem of his pants, so they wouldn't make contact with his skin.

His breath was stolen away when he could finally make the form of what seemed to be an impressive palace made of ice. It was high upon the hill overlooking the town, its many pointed towers giving it the look of an eccentric crown. It seemed to grow right out of the ground like a glacier and it reflected the light like many shards of glass in the afternoon sun.

"Ah, you like it?" She smirked. "Of course you do. You don't have anything like this in your world, do you? I don't know how you humans manage. It's adorable, really. You're so... persistent."

The detachment in her voice was somewhat eerie-she sounded as if she really couldn't care less.

"Hey, we have managed to do pretty impressive things ourselves." He said defensively. "We may not have castles made of ice but we have them made of stone."

"Yes, yes. Good for you. But they don't look nearly as good as this, now, do they?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never seen one."

"Well, then, what's the point in having them at all?"

"Royalty lives in them, and they rub their wealth in other people's faces." He quoted some of the older men of his homeland. "Just like you do. Live in your castle, I mean." He quickly added.

"...it's a good thing you corrected yourself," she replied, and for a moment, her tone was low. Then she glanced back and smiled brightly, giggling. "I would have been sad if I thought you didn't like me!"

With her smile, he was enveloped by warmth. It tasted like honey and smelled like cinnamon, honey, boiled apples, his eyes fluttering shut like the sensation of sleep on a winter's night and-

"You seem like a really nice person, my Lady."

Being honest, what he would really like was some dry clothes, but he wouldn't abuse her hospitality. It was good enough that he was in a realm he had thought unreal until today.

She beamed. "Thank you! That's sweet of you to say. Anyway, we should hurry and get you into something warmer, or you'll catch your death of cold... I'll have to ask my tailor..."

With that castle made of ice, he wondered if that was a moot point.

He didn't know what to think of this entire situation. The girl seemed nice enough, if a little apathetic, but she hadn't asked a thing about him. Not even how had he gotten there.

The castle was magnificent from the inside, intricately carved, though too luxurious for his tastes. It was, of course, as cold as the outside of it. But that's not what Allen was thinking about.

He had questions of his own. If she ruled the land, why did she call herself a Princess and not a Queen? She was a fae, did that mean she had powers? What were the Courts? How would they find clothes his size? Where were they going now?

All those and more were buzzing around his thoughts a mile a second.

He walked a few steps behind the monarch, admiring the castle and the intricate carvings of it, until they stopped in front of a thick, wooden door.

"This is one of the guest rooms--I hope you find it appropriate." Riliane opened the door and ushered him in.

His jaw dropped. "I'll sleep here?"

It was bigger than his home's kitchen and living room put together! His eyes darted to the gold-rimmed furniture, the elaborate tapestries on the walls, thick blankets and furs on the floor and the too large bed, with green sheets and gold tassels.

Riliane wrinkled her nose. "We can't have you standing in wet clothes... Kayo!"

She walked into the room, and immediately drew his attention. With long pink hair and a strikingly red dress, she was elegant without being ostentatious, carrying herself with pride but not with arrogance.

"So this is your new human," she observed, her voice low and pleasant. "He looks almost exactly like you. That should make my job a bit easier, I already know what colors to use. Let's see... Can you turn for me?"

He did so obediently, and could feel her eyes moving up and down his body, clinically, in the way a farmer might examine his animals for disease.

"Yes... and back around, please. Chin up. A pin or a tab collar, I should think... nothing too fancy. You are the princess's new human, so of course we must have something, but making your first impressions based on clothing alone can betray you. Trust me on that, darling, I'm a tailor..." Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "And you'd be surprised what people will let slip when they think I'm not listening."

Add two more questions to his list. New human?

"Ah, I won't be staying long anyway. There's no need to go through all that trouble."

She paused for a moment, and had a strange light in her eyes as she smiled, rather in the way one might smile at a child who had just claimed that they could fly. "Of course you won't, dear. Silly me, what was I thinking?"

"First impressions? Are we going somewhere?" He didn't think just staying there would require such fancy clothing.

"Of course. A ball."

Panic gripped him instantly. "I've never danced in my life. Are you sure...?"

"Absolutely positive, dear."

He had to think positive. He would have something to tell back home. About how he had embarrassed himself with a group of fae. Germaine would never let him hear the end of it.

* * *

Well. He was attending a ball with someone he barely knew. Boy and princess walked onwards, where faint din of music and voices came echoing down the corridor.

The narrow hallways opened up to a balcony looking upon a massive ballroom below. Skies of color greeted Allen—gowns and garments that glowed with an unnatural light, some that even changed hue from one moment to the next. He was left feeling underdressed in the fanciest clothes he had ever worn.

A darker orange than Riliane's own dress, more of an ochre, of an incredibly soft quality.

A staircase led the way down. Hand on the banister, he made his way down, eyes going back and forth to the strange group of people. Besides their pointed ears, the only other tell was in how otherworldly beautiful they were, their skin too smooth, their features too perfect.

"Allen!" Riliane's eyes lit up the moment she spotted him, and she giggled, beaming in his direction. "Come over here! Come on, hurry up!" At her call, people's eyes turned to him immediately, some with curiosity, others jealousy, others what seemed to be... pity... that was strange.

"Come on," she repeated, sounding more petulant, an impatient child rather than a princess. "Faster!"

He struggled not to roll his eyes as he made his way to her. He did wonder...

He had never told her his name.


	3. The Refusal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was nice, now it was time to go home.

"Are you hungry?" Riliane asked, after introductions were done. Allen Avadonia, meet a whole lot of people you'll never see again in your lifetime.

Allen blinked. _Very._ But the stories his father had told him said you should never accept faerie food. It did things to the mind and made you susceptible to being carried off into the faerie realm... Wait--he was already _in_ the faerie realm.

He nodded. Riliane led Allen over to a long table laid out with many kinds of food, most of which Allen couldn't even identify. "Help yourself," Riliane said, thrusting a plate into his hands. He didn't know what to do with it. He usually dined on the bottom part of a loaf of bread. But he watched the others around him, and did his best to imitate them.

Allen was used to eating pottage, bread, gruel, pasta. Grains. And here he saw meats, cheeses, even sweets, so many things... To have so many choices presented to him was staggering. Impossible, unreal. An opportunity.

He was used to being hungry, or at least, to not feeling full. And the fact that he could eat as much as he desired was what did him in. He filled his plate with anything that seemed appetizing enough, relishing in it, even when he noted a fuzziness around the edge of his perception. Things blurred and bled into each other as soon as he focused on them, but the expected sickness didn't come. In fact, he felt happier than he could ever remember being.

In one moment, manners forgotten, he was licking his fingers clean, and the next he was being spun round and round on the dance floor while wild music played. He didn't recognize his dancing partner, but he laughed still. This whole situation was like a dream, one he didn't want to wake up from.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Very... much so," Allen said, so happy he could hardly get the words out.

"You're Riliane's new mortal, I assume?"

Allen squinted, trying to make out his partner's face. Green, green, green. The voice sounded like a woman's. "And you're…" His muddled mind tried to conjure up a name from the ones Riliane had pointed out to him before he went to eat. "Michaela?"

Yes, he remembered her, a noble with a white-haired girl at her side, who looked at him oddly.

"Very good," the green-haired girl said. "Michaela Arklov, of the Seelie Court. A pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine."

She held her hand up, and for some reason Allen imitated her. He put his hand up to meet hers, palm to palm, forearm to forearm. They twirled as everyone else in the line did the same, uniformly. He wondered how he knew the dance's steps.

"I can't tell if you are bold or reckless for being here," she mused. "Perhaps a bit of both."

"I'm not afraid," he laughed, because he wasn't. He had no care in the world, and this was a dream come true, and he would be home tomorrow anyway.

"Reckless," Michaela sighed. "I suppose you won't listen to me, but don't let yourself become attached to the Princess."

"She'll take me home tomorrow," Allen explained with a smile. "I won't have time."

"So she told you that?" Michaela smiled thinly. "Even so, keep my words in mind. The faerie realm is no place for a boy like you."

They traded partners, and he couldn't help but frown. Why had she said that? He was leaving tomorrow, and even if he wasn't, he hadn't chosen to appear there! He wanted to keep ruminating on what she had said, but the mood was too light and things happened too quickly. The night went on. He danced with many partners, his previous worry forgotten completely. A man with red hair. A woman with a dress made of starlight. A man with an attire the color of time.

Colors spun together. Every sound became a background, a drone. Hands wrapped around his waist, and he leaned back into something soft. Oh, he was on a bed. His bed? When had he…? Oh, there was- there was someone on the bed. With him. There was only a faint sense of alarm.

Then the world went completely fuzzy, and he didn't remember anything.

* * *

He was warm. He felt lightheaded and floaty, and not in a good way. His eyes wrestled with his brain for the right to remain closed and sleep some more. Who was he, what year was it, where had he come from--all questions he had no answer to. As he opened his eyes, the night's events tied themselves together to make a barely coherent picture. He was in the faerie realm, in a bed, in a room, and had utterly embarrassed himself in front of all present.

His limbs ached and his body was covered in sweat. He had no clothes under the sheets, they were in one corner of the room in a messy pile. Usually, that happened when the summer heat was too great to ignore, but it was wintertime there... Maybe he had gotten an overabundance of blankets to ward off the cold. Then again, this was an  _ice_  castle--too many blankets just didn't register as a possibility.

He detangled himself from the blankets- on second thought, the shock of the cold was too much. He put a red, fuzzy blanket around himself before going to retrieve his clothing and putting it on, with half a mind of just staying wrapped up in it. It had been nice and wonderful and many, many other different adjectives, but he was ready to go home. His family must be worried sick.

He found himself having to put a hand on the wall so he wouldn't slip on the ice floor, needing to ask for directions before he found the Unseelie Princess. Allen found her eating, a few apple cores on her plate.

At the sound of his footsteps, she looked up to him and smiled, motioning for him to seat in the chair in front of her. "Did you have fun last night?"

"I... I think so." He muttered as he sat. He rather wished he could remember more than quick flashes. He remembered some of the party, and it was enough to declare it had been the best night of his life. But all the same, it felt like something had been taken from him.

He was opening his mouth to voice his request when he noticed Riliane's attention wasn't on him. Rather, it was on one of the windows. The setting sun could be seen outside, bathing everything in an orange glow.

The girl sighed. "The sun is always alone, isn't it? Just like me..."

That stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't even begun to consider her life. Why was she reigning? She looked his age. Where were her parents? He wasn't well-liked in the village, but at least he had his father, his sister. This girl, from what little he knew of her, had no one. A very, very lonely girl.

That made him feel bad for what he was about to do.

"Yes, but having two suns would make everyone die from the heat." Allen opined. That drew a surprised giggle from her.

"Excuse me, my Lady..." he muttered, matching her gaze without fear. "I think I've overstayed my time here. I would like to go home."

Her eyes fell on him, and she smiled slightly. "Oh, Allen, silly boy. It's so late, now. Why would you want to go home? You should sleep for a while first, and  _then_  I'll take you home. All right?"

Germaine had been looking for him when he appeared there. Knowing her, she was still searching. Guilt pooled in his gut. "I'd like to go home," he repeated, more firmly. "If you'll let me."

"But we could have so much more  _fun_ ," she pouted. "Why would I want you to leave?"

That single sentence made his blood freeze in his veins. "What?"

"You heard me," she repeated. "Maybe I don't want to be alone. Maybe I don't  _want_  you to leave. Maybe I want you to  _stay._ "

"But I-I can't stay. My family needs me."

"Do they? Do they really? You were all on your own when I found you. Do they care about you that much? Will they miss you if you're gone?"

He wanted to say 'yes'.

But... he had always been a weird child. He got sick with rashes. He covered his ears when passing the church, as the bells were too loud. He preferred the company of animals. He would fidget too much, sometimes.

Whispers began. Rumors.

_Witch. Demon-spawn._ _Changeling._

His father and sister had scoffed; said the others were just silly, superstitious fools, jumping at the shadows of nonexistent monsters.

But in private, they had exchanged worried looks and wondered. And Allen had seen. Sometimes, he had seen.

His thoughts were interrupted as Riliane's eyes flashed. "It's like I said, Allen. I want you to stay. Are you telling me 'no'?"

_I know you're lonely, but you don't do that to people. It's not right to hold people captive, even if it's in a castle, even if you treat them like royalty._

But his words lodged in his throat, and try as he might, he couldn't get them out.

To tell a Fae Princess 'no'. Was he truly that desperate? She did give him clothes, and a room, and had allowed  _him_  to go to the ball, a mere mortal. There was still that feeling...

She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. Her skin was as cold as ice. "That's what I thought."

* * *

He searched for a way out for hours, and hours, and he had almost given up.

"Help me," he begged, pride long since gone. His throat hurt with every word, hands and feet hurting with cold. "Leave. Help me leave, please."

He knew he must be quite a pathetic sight, new garments drenched in melting snow, shivering from head to toe. He had looked for the place he had appeared in for what felt like hours. But even if he found it, there was no guarantee he could get back home. There weren't any will-o'-the-wisps to follow. It wasn't that simple.

He had gone back to the castle dragging his feet, eyes on the ground the whole time. There was still one hope he had. And so, there he was, practically begging on his knees to the tailor.

"You poor, silly boy," Kayo said, with no small amount of pity in her gaze. "Are you really asking me to go against the Princess's desires? That would be suicide, my dear. As would it be for  _you_  to continue trying to go against them. Take my advice, and stop."

The words didn't want to register in his brain. He didn't want to confront the fact that- "So I-I'm stuck here? Forever?"

"For as long as she wants you here."

"What does that  _mean_?!"

"It means whatever she wants it to mean." Kayo sighed and cut a length of green ribbon, which fell to the ground with a sense of dreadful finality. "It's time you learned that. Princess Riliane's desires shape this world. What she wants is reality. No matter what."

His heart sank down to his stomach. He didn't want to stay there, no matter how fancy his bedroom was or how good the food. He had a sudden impulse to simply march up to the princess and... _do_ something, even attack her until she said yes. He knew, however, that it was just his helplessness talking.

He went to the- _his_ room instead, sat on the- on  _his_ new bed, and the whole situation finally got through to him. He was being held prisoner, in a castle, treated like a prince... and he would never go home.

He put his head in his hands, and wept.


	4. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let us play a game."  
> ('What is the prize?')

He hated carriages, hated their movement, hated Marlon for being far enough that they had to go by carriage. It made him feel sick. But, it wasn't like they had anything else to do. There was only so much you could do when you were cooped up in a castle.

He missed his family, wondered what they were doing. Were they looking for him? Did Germaine see him disappear? Had she learned not to call to someone who would never come back?

Well, he would come back, maybe if he put Riliane in a good enough mood, but that would take a while. So that day they were making a short visit to one of the parts of the Seelie realm, Marlon. Allen had almost forgotten what it was like to feel heat. Summer was something he missed.

But aside from that, life wasn't bad, and that was something he hated. He would wake up, he would spend his day with Riliane, he would learn more about this world he was in. He would see the servants giving him distrusting looks. He would hear them comment about the Princess' 'new favorite', whatever that meant.

Aside from his problem with the carriage, he was in a good mood. The tailor had graciously given him his clothes back the day before. He had wasted no time putting on his grey pants, brown shirt, red hooded cloak. He had been distraught at the time, the news of his new place of residence still fresh in his mind.

It still hurt like fire, but he had gotten better at hiding it.

They were supposed to take the carriage back to Lucifenia. The only reason Allen wasn't complaining about the carriage was that he preferred to be somewhere he knew, with the faerie he knew. Not the Seelie Prince.

That was the way it was supposed to be, until Riliane stopped abruptly and smiled at him. He smiled back. He didn't know why.

"Let us play a game," the young monarch said, tilting her head to one side.

"A game," he replied with a frown, admittedly intrigued. "What sort of game?"

The girl grinned.

"We'll see who makes it to the palace first, on foot."

He frowned more, making his distrust apparent. "You're fae. How do I know you won't--I don't know-- _fly,_ or just _appear_ there the moment my back is turned?"

She didn't lose her smile. "Like you said, I'm fae. I don't lie, like humans do. I'll do the same as you."

He reluctantly conceded the point. "What happens when one of us wins?"

"Ah, that's the question," she giggled. "You go one way, I go the other, and we'll see who arrives there the soonest."

"But  _what_  is the prize?" he demanded, trying to be bold and inflexible--it was only asking a question.

"The path of pins, or the path of needles," she continued, as if she hadn't heard at all.

"Needles," he immediately said.

Riliane laughed softly. "Are you sure? No, my dear Allen, I think the path of pins will suit you better. _I_ will take the path of needles. Now, let us see who will claim the prize."

"And the prize is…?" he asked wryly.

"Run," said the princess.

In a blink, the girl was running with surprising grace, quick and hungry. The boy watched in amazement, and he ran as well, mind on that fae. It wasn't long until he realized he had little to no idea in what direction to go. That made him slow down his steps, wandering somewhat aimlessly, knowing only the general direction.

He should have thought this through better instead of just mindlessly agreeing, thinking of why the princess would ask such a thing. But it wasn't like he had played much back then. He was definitely taking his time maturing, or so the villagers said.

He walked on, admiring the views without stopping his feet from carrying him where he wanted to go. He had known the woods back home, had known his way around the village. It was high time he learned how to orient himself in other, stranger places.

And as soon as he recognized something they had passed on their way there, nothing but sheer exhaustion would keep the boy in the red hood from tearing into the unknown, intending to win the game.

* * *

He arrived with the setting sun, and putting one foot in front of the other was as hard a task as it would be to move a mountain. His heart was as quick as the wings of a hummingbird. The sweat he was covered in coupled with the bitter weather made his final trek there quite difficult. Half a boy, half an ice statue, limbs unfeeling with cold.

He half dragged himself up the stairs, wanting to go to his room and sleep forever. As he trudged up what felt like the hundredth set of stairs, he was met with one of the maids, who he had become acquainted with in his short time there.

Her eyes narrowed as they landed on Allen.

In his second day he had stared, awestruck, at her swirling red twintails, he had wondered at the things that came out of her mouth.

She had said,  _we'll see how long you last_. She had said,  _she's playing with you. You're aware of that, right?_  She had said,  _you're not the first mortal she has brought here._

Now he ignored her, just like he had ignored the villagers. He had plenty of things to occupy his time. He and the Princess would tell each other of their experiences, of their lives. She was teaching him how to read and write. He had learned she was nearly fourteen, his age.

"The Princess is waiting for you in her room," Chartette said, looking at him up and down. Her lips curved into a smirk. "Mortals. Your bodies are so  _fragile_."

"I-I can take c-care of myself. You do-don't need to worry."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Oh, they're nice as roses until they've had their way with you. But once the bloom is gone... the beast comes out."

He walked past her. Jealousy existed in everyone.

He walked back a floor, knocking on the door with an ice-cold hand, and entered when instructed to come in. He found her peeling an apple while sitting on one of the chairs, not a hair out of place. She didn't look very fatigued, either. He wondered how long she had been there. The Princess motioned to the bed, and he went to sit on it so he was facing her.

"Y-You called for m-me, my L-Lady?" He couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. His whole body was shivering. This had better be quick, he wanted to go to his room and bury himself in blankets.

Riliane smiled, and he felt better, just a little. His teeth stopped chattering, at least.

"Finally, you're here. I thought you had gotten lost," she sighed, throwing him an apple slice. He caught it with stiff fingers, putting as much as he could in his mouth. The taste was heavenly.

Idly, Allen wondered what she would want in return for winning the game.

The briefly contented feeling the apple had given him vanished as he tensed. He couldn't help it. She already had arranged it so he couldn't leave, what more could she take from him? Maybe he was getting worked up over nothing, but she was a fae. They didn't tie themselves to humans' moral code.

Howling interrupted his thoughts, making his hair stand on end more than it already was.

Riliane smiled indulgently at him. "I would have thought you knew of them in your homeland. I love the company of wolves. Look out the window and you'll see them."

He did, managing to make out shadowy, four-legged shapes against the white ground. "Poor creatures. It's freezing cold out there. No wonder they howl so much," he mused inanely, hoping she would forget about the game. He was surely lucky he hadn't encountered any of such animals on his way there, he would have been their dinner otherwise. Then he wanted to laugh--he was nobody's meat.

He heard her stepping near to where he was. "They know how to ward off the cold. Are you sorry for them?"

"Yes," he said. "And for you, too."

Another step. "For me?"

"Yes," he said again. "You have everything people could dream of. You can do anything you wish--just by giving an order, it will come true. Make me that food, don't open up the gates, fetch me that book, make Allen stay forever," he sighed, staring dully at the window, outside which the wolves roamed.

"You and I are the same." His lips quirked into a humorless smile. "I can't stand being alone. Being alone is painful." He sighed. "Perhaps… You _did_ win the game…"

She was quiet for a while, gazing at him. Then she took a step forward, stopping abruptly. "Are you afraid?"

That snapped him out of his reverie. "It wouldn't do me any good to be afraid." He bluffed with a frown, staring right at her. "Ah, what big eyes you have."

"All the better to see you with." She took a step closer and sat with him, much too close, her eyes not the icy chips they usually were. They were... He couldn't describe it.

Allen wasn't fazed. "They say seeing is believing, but I'd never swear to it."

Her hands came up to fiddle with the knots that tied his hood together. His shivering began anew, her skin soft and icy even against his freezing skin. He stood, petrified, before her. "You'll catch your death if you continue to be in these clothes," she noted, already beginning to untie the little bow. "Do you want to take it off?"

He moved his head once, meaning just 'no', as if that would change anything. The Princess finished untying the knot, pulling him up into a standing position, removing the cloak from his shoulders. He was left in only his shirt, his trembling worsening.

Allen accepted the cloth deposited on his arms. He wished he could have worn it a little longer. "What should I do with it?"

Her eyes had never strayed from him. "Throw it to the floor, you won't need it again."

He stood there for a few moments. That cloak had been a gift from his family, he wasn't going to part with it so easily. "I'll ask Kayo if she can patch it up later," he muttered, his breath a visible mist.

With trembling hands, he let the red cloth fall to the floor. Yes, she had made him stay without giving him a choice, but he was being treated well by the Princess. Which he shouldn't be, given that he was of a much lower status than her. He was allowed to stay in the castle, and he would have never thought Riliane would go to such lengths to ensure he wasn't cold, even more so when she couldn't feel it.

She even took his coat for him, how polite of her.

Allen managed to give her a trembling smile. "They say the Princess of Lucifen is a lady," he shrugged. "And as it turns out, they're right; a fine young lady."

Riliane smiled back, taking his freezing hands in hers. "Ladies always keep their promises." She tilted her head. "Do gentlemen keep their promises too?"

Allen blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. "Whatever do you mean?"

The girl's eyes widened a fraction. "Can't you remember, you forgetful boy?" she giggled, leaning towards him. "Indeed, I won the game. So now, you owe me."

His grin melted away, apprehension forming a tight knot in his belly. "What do you want?"

"A kiss," she said simply, making him reel back. Her grip on his hands tightened. "Will you be honorable and pay me… or not?"

He just stared, wracking his brain in an attempt to find ways to make her stop. "Levia above, what big teeth you have!"

Her smile widened.

"All the better to eat you with."


	5. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's unpleasant, to wake up from a dream.

Allen had already realized the red-clad woman wouldn't say 'no' to some company, no matter how late it was or how bad he looked. At least he didn't look pathetic like last time, just corpse-white, fingers blue, lip split making ruby drops drip to the ground.

On second thought, she  _had_  given him a blanket this time…

"I thought I gave that to you yesterday. However did you manage to ruin it?"

"Went from Marlon to Lucifenia on foot," he sullenly muttered as his trembling lessened. "The snow and the thorns didn't agree with it. Thanks for the blanket, by the way."

The tailor stopped her inspection of the red cloth to look at Allen incredulously. "On foot? Why would you do something like that?"

He shrugged, bone-deep exhaustion finally setting in. "Riliane wanted to play a game,"

Kayo scoffed, somewhat distracted by the glowing dress she was making. "I assume she won?"

Allen nodded. "She arrived here before me, and she didn't even look tired, she can't have walked all that way…" he just knew she had done something to win the race, and given how Kayo was looking at him, the answer was close. "It was strange, really, her eyes had this… this weird glow… And that's all I'll tell you, because that's all I know."

"What did she want in return?"

"A kiss," he looked at the ground, gingerly touching his bleeding lip. "She has big teeth, you see."

* * *

He was gobsmacked when he entered his room and was met, yet again, with fancy clothing. Surely she didn't expect him to go. However, he still put on the drier garments, going to Riliane's room when he was done.

His lip would take a while to heal, but he couldn't help licking it, his mouth filling with the tangy-sour-sweet taste of blood.

"We have a special guest for tonight's ball," Riliane said, and Allen would later swear he almost caught her rolling her eyes.

Tonight's ball? Was this some kind of joke?

The princess was raising her eyebrows expectantly, which Allen took as a cue to ask, "Who is that?"

"Kyle Marlon, the Prince of the Seelie Court himself, and my betrothed," she said with no small amount of smugness.

"Does…does your betrothed minds you doing what you did?"

"Doing what?" Riliane asked.

"Kissing someone else, let alone a mortal. I mean, he will be your husband."

"So what? He's not my husband  _yet_."

"But what if—"

"He doesn't tell me what to do." Her glare could make apples peel. "No one tells me what to do."

He took a step back.

"You needn't look so frightened," Riliane smiled. "I'll protect you, you know that. He won't lay a hand on what's mine."

Even as he steeled himself, a shudder ran up Allen's sweat-soaked back. Was he Riliane's?

"I…" he cleared his throat. "I can't go to the ball. I'm a mortal."

Riliane waved her hand dismissively. "No one will care that you're a mortal. And if they do, they'll have to answer to me."

"That's true, but I… I don't  _want_  to go to the ball."

Riliane's smile dropped, her face darkening. Allen fought back a shudder. "Are you questioning me?"

"No." Allen stood straight. "I'm not questioning you. I'm  _telling_  you that I don't want to go to tonight's ball. I'll kill time somehow." He turned his head to the mirror. "Tell Kayo that her work is marvelous, but I'll sit this one out if it's no issue."

He shuddered again, more violently.

"You can't address me like that."

He could almost smell her. Cinnamon and roses. Allen bit at his lower lip, refusing to turn to her. "I'll sit this one out if it's no issue…  _my Lady_."

Something white hot seared his insides. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to make idle chatter with her, didn't want to play dress-up and dance. He was  _tired_.

The second he saw her face appearing behind him in the mirror, he closed his eyes to shut her out. "Your ingratitude is most unbecoming." Her voice was a glacier.

Before he really knew what was happening, she'd pinned him against the wall.

Her strength was inhuman-fitting, for she was fae, of course-and her hands were like ice. She held one of his hands in her own, stroking the back of it in an almost gentle manner, and then-and then-

She pushed one of his sleeves up in a frighteningly fast move, exposing his arm. He tried to pull his hand away, he tried, he  _tried_ , but her grip on his wrist was like steel, and it  _hurt_  to try any more-

And then she put her hand on his upper arm, bent her fingers so that her fingernails dug lightly into his flesh-

And then she dug her nails into his flesh and  _pulled_.

It took him a moment to realize that the shrieking was coming from him.

He pulled as hard as he could, trying to get away, trying to dislodge the sharp nails from his skin, from the bloody wounds they'd created, but she was stronger, she was too strong, too strong and he  _couldn't get away even as he screamed and screamed and screamed_  why couldn't he get away why couldn't he get her to stop why wasn't she stopping?

He thought she liked him. He thought she cared about him. He thought he thought he thought but he was wrong, wasn't he, because he had hot tears streaming down his cheeks and his eyes couldn't focus through the pain and confusion and fear and  _she still wasn't stopping-_

And then she drew her hand back, blood staining her fingernails, and smiled at him.

"I want you to attend the ball," she said, calmly, sweetly, as if nothing had happened, and only the bloody scratch marks and the fire still coursing up and down his arm told him that anything had happened at all.

She'd gone from calm to furious and back to calm in the span of hardly a minute, and from the look on her face, she didn't seem to think it mattered at all.

He wanted to run away, but where was there to run? He wanted someone to protect him. But who was going to get between the two of them?

Was this going to be his life now? Keeping his head down and his mouth shut, doing whatever she told him to do and trying not to make her angry?

It wouldn't stay like that, right? It was only one time. Only one. It wouldn't happen again. Surely, she wouldn't do something like that again-

Would she?

* * *

Of course, he ended up going to the ball. He didn't have a choice. He was scared, remembering Kayo's words, it would be suicide to go against the Princess. He was tired of waiting, he had to get away from there, somehow.

The party was already in full swing, the number of guests easily doubling since the last ball Allen had attended. The music was quieter, allowing for conversations here and there.

Allen felt exposed as he and Riliane descended from the staircase. He wasn't in good shape, limbs moving stiffly, patches of red on his lip and beneath one of his sleeves. He turned his gaze to the ground, so he couldn't see if they were staring.

They passed the table laden with food. "Hungry?"

Allen blinked. Very. He shook his head no. Memories—more specifically, lack of memories—from the last ball made him.

It was obvious where they were headed, Riliane's steps quick with purpose. There stood one of the few male faeries Allen had seen.

The boy was immediately confused by the colors of his attire. He associated winter with paleness and summer with vivid hues, but why did the Princess wear orange and the Prince wore blue?

Blue was certainly a word to describe the man. Easily a head taller than him, blue clothes, blue hair, blue eyes. What Allen could feel from this distance, however, was the heat he emanated.

Allen started to panic as they drew near. How did one greet a fae prince? A handshake? A bow?

Riliane solved the problem for him by approaching the man. Allen couldn't believe her expression. If it was anyone else, he would say she was love-struck.

The man's lips were shaping into a smile at the sight of the Princess, then it vanished when he caught sight of Allen. He regarded him with glowing eyes.

"It's nice to see you again, Riliane. I don't recall you bringing any mortals in your castle…" he frowned. "Kyle Marlon, Prince of the Seelie Court."

"A pleasure, my lord," Allen bowed slightly. "I am Allen Avadonia."

Kyle looked unimpressed. "He has manners at least."

"Um…" The unformed word just hung out of Allen's mouth.

"You know mortals," Riliane chuckled. "Clumsy and foolish."

Allen's cheeks burned. Somehow, Riliane's laugh cut deeper than the scratches had.

He wanted to pull away, but then the man addressed the Princess, 'I want to talk to you alone', and she released her grip on the boy's arm.

And he was alone.

He looked back to where the music came from, and his heart stuttered. The musicians were in terrible shape. The poor harp player had bloody fingers from playing so much, drenching the instrument crimson. The flute player's instrument had taken root and grown, a tree, the lower half of her face, and an eternally playing person. The piano player- Allen turned away. He was shivering, and that had nothing to do with the cold. Those were mortals, like him, spending eternity in the faerie realm, subjected to neverending punishment.

A lump of ice was forming inside him, slowly but surely. It made breathing a difficult task. It made him want to run and never return. That couldn't be… That couldn't be his eventual fate.

He kept looking around, but something had changed in the air, there was no more wonder. Something like that remained, the partygoers, not all, some of them, he could see they had cruel smiles and crueler eyes and – someone was screaming.

Allen stood utterly still. He had to… he had to get out and escape. What had seemed fun before was just monstrous and sinister.

He had to leave. It just wasn't safe.

He risked a glance at the Prince, at the Princess. They were dancing. They orbited each other, careful not to touch. Still, Allen was certain they could  _feel_ one another, the burn, the chill. They were talking, and judging by how white-lipped Riliane was, Allen was willing to bet it wasn't a pleasant conversation. He had no desire of being the target of her anger again.

The castle still was the most amazing place Allen had ever seen. A part of him wanted to keep looking, and never wanting to leave the magnificence of it all.

He walked on, aimlessly purposeful. His eyes darted around. He passed the door. Close, closer, even closer-

He opened it, and sprinted out of the room, passing icy walls and dripping ceilings, mingling easily with a few stray faes.

As he left the castle, he immediately noticed something was wrong. His body was hoarfrost. His throat felt like a desert, his entire body absolutely drained, faint and light-headed, an ever-growing void inside him. Famished, he was so famished.

He hadn't been eating food. He had been drinking wine made from starlight, had been eating pastries spun from rainbows, sweet fruits that grew from the trees of that realm. Now, away from the magic, away from her influence, he needed mortal meals made of meat, and of fat, and of grain, and he needed to be filled soon, or he would starve.

He hit the ground. And then, he fell. And he kept going.

Allen carried on, sprinting with no real sense of direction until he felt somebody grab hold of his arm. He rounded on them, ready to attack, only to come face-to-face with a white-haired girl. Skin as pale as snow, hair even more so. What made his breathing stop was her ears. They were rounded. A mortal.

He knew this girl. He had seen her with Michaela, briefly.

"Come with me. You still have a chance."

"What's happening?" Allen asked breathlessly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Clarith. I was cursed to dance to death – or madness. Well, until Michaela took pity on me. It depends which faerie takes you." she said hollowly.

The forest of the Faerie Realm was nothing like his own forest back home. In his forest, there was green, and life, and it was his safe space. In this world, it was white and still and there was death in the form of snow.

And wolves.

He hadn't even taken a few steps when he was swarmed. It took him a second to realize those were the same things that had made him arrive to the Faerie Realm. Will'o-the-wisps. A big one appeared in his arms, a few pairs of wisps on his shoulders. Dozens of small, pin-headed to coin-sized little lights nested in his hair, others in his clothes.

He watched as the formed a line in front of him. A path.  _Follow me._

"Come with me!" he said. He wasn't going to let her languid in this world!

She shook her head, red eyes smiling. "I have been here for far too long. Michaela is nice to me. It depends what faerie takes you," she repeated. "Who was yours?"

"Riliane," he said, tensing. He heard something. The song he heard somewhere, when he was transported into this world.  _Lu li la_.

He had to leave right now. He was going to say goodbye, but Clarith abruptly stopped, staring at him, before recoiling as if scalded.

"The Unseelie Princess."

Allen really didn't like that tone. Ice began forming inside him, a very bad feeling.

"I'm guessing that's bad?"

She was shaking, having gotten impossibly pale.

"She has a room of mirrors. She sees everything that goes on. She already knows I'm helping you – she must. And she knows exactly where we are – I'm sorry," she cried. "She's playing with you."

"Seeing doesn't mean touching," Allen tried. "She's far away, with her mirrors…"

She shook her head, backing away, looking at him with horrible pity. Then her eyes slid behind him. There was a hush, a complete absence of sound.

The frost inside him threatened to drown him.

His lip and arm  _throbbed_.

Allen ran.


	6. The Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And like a thunderbolt-
> 
> He falls.

He exhaled white with every breath he took, doing his very best to keep up, for he didn't want to be dragged all the way there. He had screamed and struggled and it had been all for nothing. He had been so close, already hearing the song that would take him away, and in a heartbeat--gone. It wasn't fair.

He was trembling, but not just for the low temperature. It was an internal cold, a terrifying, relentless hoarfrost spreading in his blood. For a second, he wondered if Riliane was trying to freeze him, but dismissed the thought. If she wanted him dead she could do that easily.

He met the girl's gaze head-on, trying to look unfazed. He didn't succeed, she scared him down to his very soul. His lips and arm were throbbing, leaking red. He didn't dare speak, afraid that it would bring the pain he feared into reality.

"First you refuse to go to the ball. Then you refuse the food I offer you and embarrass me in front of the prince. Now--you try to leave me?!"

He had already tried to dig his heels into the ground, but he couldn't seem to make her stop. Allen stumbled as she pushed him, fell to the ground as they reached his room.

"You don't want to eat the food I offer you? _Fine._ You won't eat _anything._ "

Allen started shivering violently. Ice-cold. It was so bitterly cold in here. Someone had opened the windows.

It struck him then. The floor was bare as well, and the walls. The furs, the tapestries, all gone. The nice bed, the blankets, all the furniture, everything… gone. The room was as barren as a cell.

Riliane grimaced. "You'll have a room fit for your gratitude."

He watched with startled eyes at his turn of luck.

* * *

It was always cold throughout the night. There was never a moment where Allen wasn't freezing.

The first night Riliane left him in that room, locked the door behind her and forbade him from closing the window, he lay in a corner, curled up like a dead spider. His entire body spasmed with chills, and his chattering was so great he was sure his teeth would crack and break into pieces. Every time it seemed like his body could finally settle, a cruel gust of wind tore through the windows and set him quivering again.

When the morning sun came, he noticed his fingernails had taken on a bluish tint in the night.

The sun brought some relief—not much, but some. Which left Allen to remember just how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten anything since the night before last. It seemed so long ago now, when he had been warm and happy. He hoped Clarith was safe.

He just wanted to go home.

* * *

One time, he awoke to Riliane cupping the side of his face. Her hand was so warm--it was strange, with how he had become used to her being cold. Allen could not stop himself from nuzzling into it, seeking out just a little bit more of that warmth.

Riliane quickly drew her hand away, looking almost regretful. "I could warm you up."

The implication was clear.

He didn't beg, for forgiveness or otherwise. He still had pride left.

* * *

The maid had been right about servant labor, about earning his keep.

Now, Allen wasn't unused to physical labor--he had helped around at home--but he was unused to doing it in such extreme circumstances.

He washed windows, stripped beds, cooked, collected laundry, scrubbed dishes… any sort of household work Riliane could think for him to do. If he finished in time, he got scraps of food. If he did the job well, he was rewarded. A ratty blanket, a pillow--Kayo once stopped by to give him his cloak--the occasional day off. So he learned to do the job well.

He became an expert in mopping, in tucking sheets, in cooking. His knuckles bled and calluses formed on his palms. His knees had constant marks on them from kneeling on uneven ice surfaces. He sometimes saw Chartette in the hallways, and she would smirk knowingly at him.

* * *

Sometimes, when it was too much, when he tired of working with little to no reward, of the sneers and poorly-disguised laughs of the servant folk, of the promise of warmth dangling in front of him, he sought companionship.

Sometimes, when he was as cold inside as he felt in his skin, he went to see the Tailor. They would sit in companionable silence, simply watching her work at marvelous speed. He would liken her to a spider, with how quick and efficient she was--how beautiful the clothes she made and sewed.

It wasn't long till he started helping her with little he could.

Sometimes, when the day was too dull, or there wasn't much work to do, she would tell him stories to pass the time.

"I do everything I can for Riliane. I only slighted her once, only tried to escape once. Yet this keeps happening… and I can't understand why. Why does she do this?" he asked her one day.

"Have you ever heard the tale of The Scorpion and the Frog?" she asked him one day.

"I can't say I have," he whispered.

The truth, like cobwebs, hung in that cold place, waiting to be discovered. He could tell this wasn't a story of her past, one of those stories of emotional tangibility, within the eternity of one word, knitted into invisible cobwebs.

He trusted her, for Kayo was a storyteller. Her tales contained  **truth**.

And even though the truth was, by nature, subjective… A spider had many eyes, and this one was a master of crafting the unknowable into something that could ensure they lasted another day.

And so, he listened as Kayo spun her tale. _"A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion says, "Because if I do, I will die too."_

_"The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown, but has just enough time to gasp "Why?"_

_Replies the scorpion: "It's my nature"_

Sometimes, Allen just couldn't see what point Kayo was trying to make. "You're telling me, she hurts me because that's how she is? That's ridiculous!" he scoffed, watching the pink-haired woman out of the corner of his eye. "You are a fae too." He said it with conviction, as if that simple fact would undermine the meaning of the story.

Because that simply wasn't true. But, he thought about the stories he had heard about Kayo's scissors. He thought about the fact that one day, she had asked him to call her 'mother'.

Sometimes, she slipped, and called him 'Ren'.

Sometimes, he wanted to ask why, but he never had the courage.

* * *

It seemed that no matter how hard he worked—how many buckets of water he carried back and forth, how many logs he chopped for firewood, how many stairs he went up and down during the day—his body never got used to it. His muscles always hurt. His joints always ached. He was always cold, and stiff, and numb in his feet. He was always hungry.

That infuriated him.

He begged one day. And some others. It depended on a number of things—the difficulty and amount of work he would be assigned, how tired he was as the sun went down, how badly he needed to feel human.

_Throw your clothes on the floor; you won't need them._

_Come to bed, lie down here beside me._

_Et en disant ces mots, le méchant loup se jeta sur le garçon; et le mangea._

* * *

Time bled together in this place, days and nights and time mixing together irrevocably. Allen had no notion of the outside world, or how long he'd been here.

Riliane had forgiven him surprisingly quickly. Given what he knew about the fae, he had expected her to hold that grudge for years.

Of course, that was after he said 'yes'.

The tasks gradually changed. Instead of so much manual labor, he gradually rose to tasks that consisted mainly of catering to whatever whim the Princess had. Be it brioche or horseback riding or anything else.

Now he was the one smirking at Chartette in the hallways, in some sort of petty revenge.

* * *

It was easy to get bored, when he was all day doing such mechanical tasks. Do them long enough, and they become second nature. He had to take his mind off of the cold, so he took to daydream. Some time later, he took to humming quietly. When he realized he wasn't bothering anyone, he would sing under his breath.  _"Don't let the wolf into your bed, she'll take your soul then eat your head…"_

Scratch him first, maybe. Leave him in the cold, perhaps. Promising to warm him up if he said so, even though it had been too soon since the last time. In Allen's opinion, anyway.

Allen was determined to keep her waiting, though if he was honest with himself, it hadn't been that bad, those last few times. He startled a bit and shook his head, determined to keep those thoughts away.

He continued making the bed. " _No, don't let the wolf creep in your door, she'll take you in sleep to her chamber of horror…_ "

Something he had observed: She was a spoiled brat. Something else he had observed: She hadn't lied when she said she was lonely.

She hurt him, but sometimes she was kind, and that would always leave him without knowing how to feel. He couldn't hate her. He had tried, desperately, but he couldn't. A better word would be that he resented her. Besides, he could carry a normal conversation with her, if she was in a good mood. Faeries were tricky and confusing.

Maybe he was going crazy.

" _Are you dreaming? No use pleading. Are you dreaming? She'll soon be feeding…"_  he sang under his breath as he straightened the covers.

"If you give me your head, you will please me so!" a voice crowed, making him whirl around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "Much more from a silver platter, I shall eat you!"

There was a twinkle in her eyes that Allen recognized as-–he hoped-amusement.

He went back to work as the Princess walked in the room. "Though not the head, that would be disgusting… Not to mention impractical for you."

His breath misted as he finished with the last bed. He could almost feel her breath on the back of his neck. "Then what would you want me to give you? My Lady," he quickly added.

"I want your heart."

* * *

"Honestly, I don't get why must we host so many balls. Shouldn't they get boring after a while? Shouldn't someone  _else_  host the balls?" Ney griped, atop a tall stool while cleaning the upper part of the wall.

"I wouldn't know, Favorite here is the one who has gone to one, hasn't he?"

Allen looked up from scrubbing the floor, remembering her first words to him and hating her for it. "Have you ever seen a ball while at its peak? It's nice, in a superficial sort of way, unless you look deeper, you know… But Riliane doesn't take you to many balls, does she?"

Chartette's smirk fell away. "You certainly seem to think you're pretty clever." She bared her teeth in a nasty scowl. "Riliane hates clever, yet you keep doing it."

He looked at her with a surprised expression. "Oh, so _that's_ why she keeps you around."

Up above, Ney let out a startled snort.

"At least she keeps me around… I have to give you credit, though," Chartette hissed, nailing him in the shoulder when she threw a spoon at him, "for lasting much longer than I expected."

Allen rubbed his arm. "That hurt."

"You like it," she stated.

He looked back at her, oddly.

"I _don't._ "

* * *

There was an honest-to-Levia rose bush growing in a corner, blossoming. He didn't know how it survived there, but he guessed it was Riliane's doing. Now, how she knew roses were his favorite flower, that was another question. At least his room didn't seem quite so bare. A splash of color in all that ice.

When Kayo had come to give him his cloak, her laugh had almost startled him out of a well-deserved sleep. She said, "Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?"

He smiled back, weakly shaking his head. He had no idea. "Hey," he started as he outstretched his hand to grab the cloak, "Have there been more... Like me? I mean, am I the first?"

The tailor hesitated. Glanced at the walls of the room. Allen nearly startled. Of course, ice, reflections, mirrors. How could he be so blind? "I think that you'll be the seventh maid in a row." She answered.

Allen didn't expect that she would take his cloak back. When he finally got it back, there was a pattern of roses all over it.

* * *

Eventually, he was presented with new clothes. By that time, he had his bed again, and some blankets, his cloak.

An ochre outfit. An ochre outfit that looked remarkably like the one he'd been given when he first arrived here. His heart ached in some kind of mistaken nostalgia.

"You're going to the ball tonight," Riliane announced, and he knew better than to argue. "There's a special guest I want you to meet."

His thoughts flashed to Germaine, making his stomach twist all the way to the ballroom. He wondered if he could get away with wearing his cloak over it--Kayo had woven all sorts of patterns into it, he felt like he was doing her a disservice if people couldn't see it.

But to both his relief and horror, the guest wasn't her. It wasn't a new human Riliane had gotten to take his place. From what he heard, the Seelie Queen had gotten that one.

Not a woman, a girl who couldn't be out of her teens yet. Slightly older than him, he guessed. On the prettier side of plain. A kind, dimpled smile. Her brown eyes sought him out, but no recognition ignited behind them.

Allen didn't recognize her, either.

"Yukina," Riliane said, similar in tone to the first time Allen had seen her, "I want you to meet someone. Allen here is from your village."

The girl smiled. There was a bleariness to her eyes. She had been eating fairy food. "Really? You're from Lucifenia?"

"I was," Allen said, attempting to smile.

Riliane pushed the two of them together. "Dance." It wasn't a suggestion. Going again with the Seelie Prince, Allen supposed. The man didn't seem to like him much. He wondered why.

For her part, the girl's face lit up as Allen took her hand and guided her to the dance floor. Allen saw his old self mirrored in her excitement; she had not yet come to distrust the faeries. He thought briefly of Michaela. He should have listened to her. Except it might have been too late even then. It was probably too late for this girl.

He thought about Clarith as well. She was safe, wasn't she? He didn't know her fate.

"I'm Yukina," she said, as if Riliane hadn't introduced them just seconds earlier. "Yukina Freezis. And you are…?"

"Allen Avadonia."

The first hint of recognition lit up her face. Allen wondered how. He had changed a bit, his skin, the length of his hair. "Oh. Then you're related to the Red Swordswoman?"

"Who is that?"

"Germaine Avadonia."

Elation and pride for his sister bubbled up inside him. She was already a swordswoman? He had thought his father would never give in! This was amazing! "She's my sister," he said with a warm smile.

She furrowed her brows, eyes staying to take in everything. "I wasn't aware she had a brother."

"Are you sure you're from Lucifenia?" Allen teased. Then realized how odd it felt to tease someone good-naturedly again. "Surely you must know my father then. Leonhart Avadonia?"

"Oh, you're Leonhart's son?" Her brows turned upwards at that. "Oh, he doesn't live there anymore. There was a Revolution, you see."

"What?" The words hit him hollowly, as if she'd said something very important that he couldn't quite understand. "When?"

"Some years ago. When I was a little girl."

He felt something like a cold hand creeping up his back. Years ago? That couldn't be. He hadn't been gone for years. He couldn't have been gone for years.

"Oh, I know who you are." Yukina beamed suddenly. "You're the one who disappeared all those years ago, of course. I grew up hearing stories about you. That's how I knew there was another world, and that if you had escaped here, then I could too."

Escaped? No, he hadn't escaped, that hadn't been his choice! He had to warn her, he had to…

"Yukina." The cold hand grasped at the back of his neck, freezing his insides, almost freezing his heart. They twirled around on the dance floor, oblivious to everyone else. "How old are you?"

She smiled. "Fifteen."


	7. The Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How we are raised is what shapes us.

There was a pressure in his chest when he entered the Princess's room. He had been gone for so long, his family would have moved on, forgotten about him, but no, he was still alive and made to cater the whims of a capricious Princess.

"How long?" there was a bitter taste in his mouth as he rounded on her. "How long has it been?"

Riliane blinked. "We left the ball a few minutes ago."

"I mean-" he took a deep breath so he wouldn't start yelling. "How long has it been since I came here?"

"In human time?"

"Yes!"

She brought a hand to her chin in contemplation. "I would say… eighteen, nineteen years?"

"Eigh-" there were thorny vines tearing apart his heart. His family must think of him dead. Did they miss him? Did they wonder where he was? "That… That can't be possible. I haven't changed at all!"

And he hadn't, he would look at himself in the castle walls. He was thinner, paler, with longer hair, but that was the extent of it. He hadn't even grown taller!

There was a familiarity in her eyes when she next spoke. Idly, he wondered how many times she had seen this happen. How many times she had had this exact conversation, if she had heard her mother saying it when she was young. "Time passes differently here."

It started as nothing more than a crack, heavy breathing, and escalated into a whine. Then the first sob broke through.

Riliane startled, and in any other situation, her expression would have been comical. Eyes wide and confused and panicked. She took his hand in hers. "What's wrong?"

He wrenched himself away. "Don't touch me." he gasped. "So many years have passed in my world, I left my family behind, I couldn't say goodbye and it's all because of you!"

"You could have asked."

He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "Don't lie to me! You think I don't remember what you did to me?"

"You misunderstand," Riliane said, trying to regain her former grace. "I would have let you leave, if only you promised you'd come back."

He didn't know if he believed her. The servants said he was her favorite, but for the life of him, he couldn't see her actually letting him go back home. Faes never lied, but he was sure there were alternatives to that.

Maybe he should just... start adapting. Since it seemed like he wouldn't...

He didn't finish the thought.

* * *

To serve in the Unseelie Palace was risking one's life, he had heard from mortals and fae alike, for the ruler was prone to have the most treacherous rages. A morbid part of Allen's mind had wondered how his fellow mortals had lost their lives. Starvation or hypothermia were the most likely concepts, though obviously not true for each and every case.

One difference between Allen and them? They were under a geas. Riliane hadn't bothered to make one with him. Whatever they wished for--in return, their complete obedience. He wondered why. Boredom, perhaps, though that meant he was more than a mere servant.

Maybe the more disruptive mortals were beheaded. He heard all sort of things from the servant-folk, even though he had never seen one.

For a while. Eventually, he was unlucky enough to see something of the sort. It had been a normal day, he was walking together with the monarch, when a maidservant had blocked their path. Allen eyed what she clutched in her hand. Iron. She wanted to burn her.

The girl with no name's eyes were wide with fury, silvered hair and pale of skin.

His eyes flickered to the princess. Her composure hadn't cracked. And then-

"Stop breathing."

Princess Riliane watched dispassionately as the woman fell to her knees, clawing at her throat. The mortal tried reaching for her, silently begging for reprieve, and the girl kicked her away. When the body spasmed and at last grew still, satisfaction coursed through the princess's veins.

All the while, Allen watched as the life went out of her eyes. Horror pooled in his gut. That hadn't been a murder, that had been an afterthought. There had been no glory or honor in that death, no last words. He doubted Riliane even remembered the woman's name.

He had asked if she would ever do that to him. She had smiled, and answered no. He had said, "Promise me. Promise me you won't kill me."

He hadn't expected her to agree.

* * *

As always, it began in a ball. Riliane had looked at him oddly when he came in dressed in his cloak, stubbornly prepared for an argument about clothes and etiquette, but she hadn't done much more than that.

"Hungry, Allen?"

Still wary of the food, Allen shook his head.

Riliane huffed as she set the plate down, with food already placed there instead of going to the food table. "It's not enchanted."

He shrugged and scanned the dancing people. Maybe, with any chance, he would spot Yukina or Clarith. He was worried.

Allen watched as the various fae danced as they stepped on the polished floor (his work!) and as he was, mercifully, left alone again. He hadn't averted his eyes when he saw, amazingly, Kyle colliding with Riliane. Knowing the Princess' temper, Allen watched with his heart in his throat.

The Winter Princess merely stared down at herself, at where some of her skin had melted and boiled away.

"My apologies," Kyle said through half-frozen lips.

"It was an accident," Riliane said, and waved it off. Already, the frost was creeping back up her skin.

He wasn't blind to the unfriendly glance the Prince gave him. Nor he was deaf, for he could just make out, "Still with him, I see."

He went over the facts he knew. The Princess' betrothed wasn't very fond of him, and that put him in immediate danger if he didn't do something to rectify the situation. He was aware of his precarious position should Riliane stop favoring him.

Mind made up, he left his plate on the table and scanned the crowd for a dance partner, heart sinking when he found her. Yukina ate the fairy food with abandon and danced wildly, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

He asked her to dance with a smile. There was no need to get angry with her about what she had done. She was just a stupid little girl, just like he had been a stupid little boy.

They could always talk later. For now, he led her, always careful to be near enough that he could hear the conversation of both their... their faes.

"And is that a problem, Kyle?" Riliane was saying. "It's not as if you don't have your own companions. We all have our humans. I don't think that's an issue."

"First off, she's not mine." Kyle bristled. Allen could feel the heat from where he stood. "At least I have some sort of decency. If you think I haven't heard the rumors-"

"Rumors?" Riliane drew herself up to her full height, and her eyes flashed. "If you listen to everything servants say-they say things every time they're not in my favor, they're petty, gossiping little noisemakers who are worried that I'll get tired of dealing with their incompetence and get rid of them. But you actually  _pay attention to them_?" Her face softened, and she smiled slightly. "Kyle, dear, you're quite naive, aren't you? Trusting everything you hear. Do you know what all of that will do to you?"

"Are we spying on them?" Yukina asked Allen, as they twirled with the rest of the partygoers in tune with the music. He was expecting a disapproving frown, what he got was a mischievous smile. It reminded him of the times Germaine and himself would do similar things. He hushed her with a smile.

"I never said I believed them." Kyle pointed out. "But the fact that there are rumors at all worries me."

"There are rumors about  _everything_ ," Riliane replied, her voice frosty. "Why, the other day, I'm quite certain I heard one of the maids whispering about you and your... Yukina, was it? Saying that you preferred the younger ones." Allen felt the aforementioned girl visibly jolt with an affronted look. "But did I pay attention to that? Of course not. Because _I_  know  _better_  than to put any stock in what anyone other than you says about yourself. People who are beneath you will say anything to try and drag you down. Soon enough I suppose you'll learn that, won't you?"

Even from that distance, Allen could tell the Prince was trying to keep his voice even. "Nothing like that happened..."

"And I believe that! It's like I just said," she continued, her voice pitching a little higher. "The idea of listening to them is just silly! Can you just  _understand_ that?"

"You said that and yet... That boy follows your every step. How can I not be worried about that?"

"Well,  _maybe_  he's just  _loyal_ ," Riliane spat, and Allen had to hide his laughter. "Which is something I can't say about a lot of people these days. If that's not a good reason to keep someone around, then what is?"

They were starting to draw attention by now. Allen decided to retire elsewhere, just in case. "Are you insinuating I'm not loyal to you?"

"I'm saying that a lot of people  _aren't_ , and I-" Her voice cracked. "I don't want you to be one of them, all right?! Is that wrong? You're my fiance, and to say things like that to me-How do you think that makes me feel? Are you trying to hurt me? Is that it? Do you want me to suffer? What do you want?"

Their voices faded away as both mortals went in a different direction. Allen didn't know what to think. The problem, as it turned out, was himself. Himself and an unfaithful Princess, who was a better actress than he gave her credit for.

"I don't like her," Yukina all but seethed beside him.

"She's a very caustic person, yes." Allen calmly agreed, nearly tripping over himself in a badly-timed step. "How's life in the Seelie Court?"

"Oh, I don't live there. I'm not in the Faerie Realm the entire time," she explained at Allen's baffled look. "I come here at night and leave in the morning. Though I guess the Seelie Palace is more homely than this giant block of ice."

Allen had been about to get serious, but he laughed. He couldn't help it. That was an apt description. "You can't imagine how annoying it is to clean," he shared, letting the last vestiges of his laughter slip away from his voice.

Then he schooled his features. "Was what the Prince was saying true? You aren't hurt?"

The girl blinked. "No, no! It's not like that at all! Prim gets me here and then I spend time with Kyle. He's lonely, you know. He shows me his paintings and we discuss books."

"You know how to read?" Allen raised his eyebrows. "I-I mean no offense."

"Of course I know how to read!" she hissed. "My Father is a merchant, you see, and I'm a famous storyteller." She smiled. "That's one of the reasons I came here, actually! They're called _fairy_ tales for a reason, and I intend to ask faes and mortals about their experiences."

He couldn't help but smile back. "Anything for a good story, I see."

"Yes, exactly," she nodded, before twirling again. "I couldn't help noticing your attire..."

Allen felt warmth rushing up his cheeks. "I came to the Faerie Realm with this. It was a gift from my family."

Her eyes widened in understanding. "It seems a bit frivolous to wander around with such an intense shade of red, especially for a boy," she noted. "Some of the men in the village would call it indecent."

"I used to frequent the woods, and the color made it easier to keep track of me, you see. Not." He smiled sheepishly. "The rose pattern wasn't part of it originally. There's a tailor who did a few embellishments to it without consulting me."

Her expression turned pensive. Allen could almost see the mechanism inside her brain working. "A red-hooded child wandering in the woods... meets who?"

He remembered,  _the path of pins or the path of needles_ , and,  _throw them away, you won't need them anymore_ , and,  _all the better to eat you with_.

He flashed a look to the Princess. "A wolf. A she-wolf."

"That's enough grounds for a story."

His smile was wiped by his dance partner stumbling. He caught her by the waist, so that they barely missed a step.

The girl--who shouldn't have been the same age as him--blushed.

"I'm sorry." she yawned. "I haven't been sleeping much."

As they went their separate ways, Allen was frowning. At that moment, he had seen her cracks starting to show.

He decided not to worry about things he had no control over. He made his way to where he had left his plate, and sat on the bench. So this was supposedly not enchanted food. He ate a few bites, and was relieved to find there was no fuzziness in the edge of his vision. A chill ran down his spine. He looked around, locked eyes with her. He saw Riliane's smirk widening when he drank, when he ate, and he wondered what he was eating at all.

"Pearl for your thoughts?"

It was by some miracle that he swallowed instead of choking. His head whipped around. "Michaela! Clarith! It's so good to see you again."

He had been honestly worried about the white-haired girl's fate, but apparently what she had said about Michaela was true. Who knew there was actually a decent faerie in this realm?

"I would say likewise, but I had hoped you had managed to escape. Now," she sat in the seat beside him as Michaela joined the others in their dance, "Are you safe?"

He returned his gaze to his plate, moving around bits of food. His scars ached with the very reminder. He tried to give her a convincing smile. "...it could be worse. The Princess didn't stay angry for very long." He noted his smile had turned tight, and changed the subject. "Michaela is from the Seelie court, isn't she?"

Clarith nodded, starting on her own plate of food. "She is a lower noblewoman, yes."

Stomach twisting around, Allen carefully averted his eyes. "And you're her maid?"

"I would say more like a friend. She's odd among the fae." The pale girl was smiling as her eyes flickered over to him.

Allen's hands were shaking. Managing to eat a bite was suddenly a complicated task. He exhaled. "So you're… You're her favorite?"

She shrugged between mouthfuls. "Yes, I suppose."

Allen's eyes snapped over to her. The sheer nonchalance of that answer left him reeling. "Y-you're okay with this?"

Was he supposed to be okay with that too? Was that how things worked around here? Was there any escape at all?

She turned to him as her brows creased. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He spluttered, nearly choking on steak and potatoes. The ballroom blurred for a second in a manner that reminded him of fairy food, gold and white swirling together like oil and water. He furiously blinked away the moistness in his eyes. "Why  _would_  you be?"

The thing quivering and breaking and tightening his chest was difficult to restrain. "How can you?" he heaved a breath.

Clarith was peering down at him, concern in his eyes. Huh, he had almost forgotten what that looked like. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

He wrenched his eyes away, shame blooming inside him. "She--" The word was a diamond lodged in his throat. It had value. It would make things real, not a delusion he was under, or a particularly bad nightmare.

He swallowed thickly. "She uses you, and you're okay with that? Everyone knows and they do nothing. Were you willing the first time? Am I supposed to like that?" His voice fluctuated between breathless whispers and hisses so quickly that she had to pay him her utmost attention to understand. "Is there something wrong with me, then?"

The more she spent without answering, the worse Allen felt. The food laid on the plate, the non-enchanted food. Which Riliane had taken the trouble to give to him. The girl who had taken him there and who asked him 'are you happy?' every once in a while. The girl who had given him his room back, who didn't know how humans behaved. Was she actually making an effort to make him happy?

Because the fact remained, he was still that girl's favorite.

It was often humiliating and always warm, nearly incandescent. He enjoyed himself during, and he hated himself afterward, but at least he had a soft bed with warm sheets. And something real to cling to.

"Tell me!"

As her mind processed the implications of what he'd said, she could feel her stomach starting to turn. He wasn't-he wasn't really- There was no way he could mean what that sounded like, no way. Riliane could be an awful person, yes, but that was too far, even for her... wasn't it?

 _No_ , her mind provided, even as she tried to block out the thought.  _No, it wasn't too far at all._

"Allen," she whispered, her voice quivering a little bit. "Allen, what do you mean? You're not saying that she... she didn't. She wouldn't. Tell me you don't mean that. Please."

He couldn't bring himself to answer.

"...I see."

She looked down, knowing what his silence meant. "Michaela... isn't like that at all. So I thought... I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. No one deserves that."

* * *

He approached the subject once they were on their way back from the ball.

"I couldn't help but notice there's been tension between you and Prince Kyle." He struggled to keep his tone as light as a leaf. "The source of that tension is obviously me..."

"Aren't you conceited? Why are-"

"I'd say the look on his face every time he sees I'm with you is proof enough, my Lady. So I wondered if we could stop our--our nightly meetings, if it's no issue."

Riliane stopped walking.

"I-I mean, he's a fae, and that alone makes me fear for my safety," he hurriedly added. He very much didn't want to die of something like heatstroke.

At least, trying to reason with Riliane had more chances of working. Minimal ones, but he would take what he could get.

"...How much longer do you think I want to deal with this?"

"Beg your pardon?" That hadn't been an answer he had expected.

"First Kyle, now you," she continued, her face twisting into a scowl. "Over and over again, questioning me,  _telling me_  what to do. Constantly!" She reached forward and grabbed his wrist, her nails digging into his skin and frost starting to creep up his arm. "Need I remind you  _who_  it is you are speaking to?"

The sight of it left him paralyzed with terror, yet he still spoke. "I am speaking to Riliane Lucifen, the Unseelie Princess," he muttered. In his opinion, this whole situation was easily avoidable, and he was just pointing out the solution. "Your fiance doesn't want this situation, and I don't either." He tried to pull away, as much as he could. "I'm not a toy for you to play with!"

"Oh,  _aren't_  you?" Riliane spat. "I am the Unseelie Princess, at least you're right about that. But you? You're a human! A pathetic, weak, stupid little creature who ought to be worshiping the ground I walk on, not  _defying_  me. You are who and what I say you are, and I say you are nothing.  _Nothing!_  Do not  _ever_  speak to me like that again, or I  _will kill you!_ "

She was speaking out of anger, Allen knew that, but that didn't stop him from being scared. "What did I do to you? Why do you do this to me?!"

"...Because I want to," she replied, looking genuinely puzzled as to why he would even need to ask. "Because I can."

That wasn't an answer. "Let go of me."

"Why?"

He tried his hardest to remain calm. He had dealt with Riliane angry before. He could do this. He didn't believe she would kill him, why would she try to keep things as they were if not? "You're hurting me."

"And? Why should I stop?"

He bit his lip. He was so, so tired. "I learned my lesson, I won't speak about this topic again. Let go, there's no need for this."

Slowly, her face softened, and she released his wrist, leaving bright red drops dotting his skin. "Very well. I'll hold you to that... don't disappoint me again."

He cradled his wrist to his chest, his eyes never leaving her.

"Don't worry... I won't."


	8. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Freezis interlude.

_The thing – monster, demon, nightmare – oh, Allen knew exactly what it was – took a deep breath. Scenting him, his fear and nausea and useless rage at being so stupid and so trapped again._

_“Apologies,” the nightmare said, voice familiar and as smooth as the slide into hypothermia. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”_

_This close, he could feel the cold radiating off it in waves, a chill that sunk teeth into his bones, gnawing at the very marrow of him. Now the half-light fell on its face, and it looked inhuman, Riliane's face carved by some mad craftsman – it reached for him and slid two fingers tipped with wicked claws under his chin, tilting his head up so he couldn’t help but meet its blue eyes. Shaking, breathless, Allen fell into them._

_Associations came quickly – sharp ice and empty winter skies and wild forests choked by snow and hunger, hunger so ancient and powerful, no end and no possibility of satiation, hunger almost alive – Allen couldn't breathe, sweat freezing on his skin, and the fae whose home he walked into like a lamb to slaughter smiled at him, amused and almost fond-_

_Icy lips settled over his own. He gasped and choked, drawing in deep drowning breaths and shaking from the cold. Somehow, it wasn’t numbing – he could still feel it everywhere, inside him even, leeched into his lungs through the air and soaked into his blood._

_“Remarkable boy,” she said from above him, the sound drifting down to his ears like snow. "I think I want your heart."_

_She licked him, running her tongue over his cheek to collect fear-sweat and, god, tears, he had been crying without even noticing it._

_"Then take it." Allen forced through chattering teeth._

_She chuckled. "All in due time."_

_And then, warmth._

He woke with a scream. His bed was covered in frost and leaves and roses.

* * *

While the servant boy awakened from an early night nightmare, Yukina Freezis had decided to spend the time before the ball indulging in expanding her pet project.

"I'm interested in how faeries live, you see? And I thought, what better way to gain inspiration for my stories than to ask faes about their lives. If... If you don't mind, that is."

The blue-haired man, who had identified himself as both Joseph and Carlos, was quite busy with preparing the food. Yukina decided to look elsewhere.

"Oh, I don't mind a bit, dear," Banica replied with a smile that looked far, far too practiced. "You're adorable, you know that? I could just eat you right up," she added with a laugh, and the blue-haired man stiffened momentarily. "Anyway, what do you want to ask?"

The girl glanced at her notes. "We could start with some general facts if that's alright, Miss Conchita?"

"All right... Yukina, was it? What sort of things were you curious about?"

"Who are you, what do you do, some things about your life." She had to gauge what sort of person this Banica was after all.

"Oh, so you want to know about me... well, my name, as you already know, is Banica Conchita, and I am a minor member of the Unseelie Court... Do? Darling, I don't really do anything. Except eat--Carlos is a _wonderful_ chef and always makes the most delightful things for me... I only gave him a vacation one time, and then the princess snatched him up. Not that I can blame her. At least he still mostly only cooks for me, unless she wants him to make something else..."

"So Carlos is your personal chef?"

"Most of the time, yes. Unless, of course, the princess wants him, in which case... well, it's not like I can ask him to cook her, now, can I?" She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand as she did so, and smiled in a ghoulish manner--just a little bit too wide, a little too bright, and not quite reaching her eyes. "She's off-limits, even if I am a little curious. Though, a little thing like you would make a delicious appetizer, I'm sure..."

Her smile had frozen on her face. "You- you cook people."

Banica tilted her head, looking genuinely confused as to Yukina's response. "You cook animals."

"That's different. Animals can't talk, for one, and why would you cook people if you have animals? That's cannibalism!"

"...No, it's not. Cooking another faerie would be cannibalism, silly girl. Cooking a human is nothing worse than you eating venison... The animals have their own languages, dear. You humans just don't understand them. Since you're Kyle's favorite, I suppose I'll have to leave you alone... but you look like you have an excellent flavor... what a pity."

Kyle had told her it was dangerous to go to the Unseelie part of the realm alone, but she wasn’t expecting something like this. With a half stammered something, she made it for the door, not stopping until she was a distance away.

Yukina frowned as she tried to decide who to ask next. There was a judge, a doctor, a tailor, some of the maids, the boy from her homeland...

And if she was feeling brave, the princess herself. She decided to talk to the tailor.

As usual, Kayo was sewing, hemming a red dress and humming something to herself. When Yukina entered the room, she looked up and smiled.

"Ah, hello. Yukina, isn't it? What brings you here?"

Yukina paused, furrowing her brows. “I never told you my name.”

"I've heard about you from Ren, you know. Thank you for being his friend, by the way... he does get lonely sometimes." Her expression was clouded, but her hands continued to move with the same skill and dexterity as always.

“Ren?” She was sure she didn’t know anyone by that name.

"Yes, of course. Ren, my s--" Her eyes cleared, and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm sorry. I got distracted for a moment, I suppose. Now, where was I? Ah, that's right. I've heard about you from Allen. And I wanted to thank you for being his friend... he doesn't have many of those, here."

"I do what I can," she shrugged. She was seriously starting to consider Kyle's request -not that she would tell Allen. She knew enough of him to know how against it he would be. "Would you tell me some general information about you? I am working on some stories, you see, and besides, I can't keep referring to you as 'the tailor'. If you're not busy, that is." She had seen enough of the pink-haired woman to know that unlike Banica, she did work. Quite hard, in fact.

"Oh! Of course, I'd be happy to. My name is Kayo, Kayo Sudou. As I assume you already know, I'm Princess Riliane's personal tailor. Though, when she doesn't require anything, I will take jobs for some of the other members of the court--a good set of clothes is always desirable, so I'm often quite busy. But, I'm also quite capable of multitasking, so don't worry about being a bother..."

She looked at the clothing displayed in wonder. "The designs look so complicated... And you made all those yourself?"

"That's right," Kayo replied proudly, tilting her head slightly and smiling. "Hmm... None of the ones on display are orders, they're just things I created for fun," she mused, half to herself, "and you are one of the prince's guests... Yes," she continued, her voice growing a bit louder. "I think that would be all right. If you'd like," she added, addressing Yukina, "you can choose one of those for yourself. I don't mind at all." Something in her eyes was wistful, nostalgic--lonely.

The girl's eyes widened as she forgot her next question. That was awfully generous of her. "How much would it cost?"

"Normally? It would most likely be a lot more than you could afford at home... however, since you're staying with the prince, you can probably afford anything. But you don't need to worry about that, it's my pleasure... it's quite rare that I have someone your age around, who appreciates my work. If you like it, then you should have some of it. After all, I can know it will have a good owner to take care of it that way..."

The 'thank you' was lodged in her throat. That was one of the rules. Never, ever, say 'thank you' to a faerie, or it was a debt owed.

"Je suis revenue, Maman!" Yukina startled and whirled around as the servant boy paused in his movements. His face was the picture of shock as he caught sight of the girl. "What are you doing here?"

Kayo's face lit up, and she started out of her chair, casting cloth and scissors aside and sweeping the boy into a hug, seemingly heedless of her surroundings. "You're back," she murmured, and buried her face in his hair, clinging to him tighter as if trying to keep him from leaving again. "There you are. Finally, you're back, Ren."

"Of course I am. I wouldn't leave you alone." He hugged her just as tightly. Yukina watched with narrowed eyes as the boy turned his head to her, completely unbothered by it all. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to ask some questions," Yukina replied flatly. "And now I have another one. What's going on?"

Allen sighed. Great. Just great. He couldn't send her on her way because he _knew_ she would find a way to corner him later. "Fine, come outside."

"Okay," she said, a bit suspiciously, and followed him out, seeing the thoroughly lost look on Kayo's face out of the corner of her eye, as the tailor mechanically sat back down and took up her work. "What's the deal, then, _'Ren'_?"

“List- Hey.” he grabbed her arm to steady her as she swayed. “Are you okay?”

“I just... I haven’t been sleeping much. I'm tired of fairy balls." Her face was light, but her voice was fear-filled. "How long do I have to keep dancing?"

Allen didn't reply, changed the topic.

"Listen, she just- Kayo used to have a kid. I don't know what happened to him, I don't know where he is, I do know that he looked like me and that his loss really shook Kayo up. I won't ask about it and I would advise you to not ask either." he dragged a hand over his face as he sighed once more. "When I first- When I came here, when I realized I couldn't leave, I started visiting Kayo a lot, if only to stay away from Riliane. And- and sometimes, she would just... call me by the wrong name. I didn't think anything of it at first since I thought it was because she didn't know me for long. It continued happening, and I asked around and found out why, and- Why do you care?"

"...Because it's kinda weird," Yukina responded, tilting her head in thought. "And she seems nice, but she's still a faerie. You know what'll happen if you get too close to one of them, right? Even if they're nice like her and Kyle, you can't just get attached like that."

"Never heard that one before," he huffed. "She is the only nice faerie I've seen so far. Yukina, I haven’t seen my family for twenty years. At least Kayo doesn't-" he cut himself off and averted her gaze, biting his lip so hard she was afraid it would break the skin. "She's nice. That's all."

Yukina kept her gaze on him, even though he didn't meet her eyes.

"...Doesn't _what_ , Allen?"

"...it doesn't matter. Don't worry."

"You're not acting like it doesn't matter."

He shook his head violently. "I- Fine! It does matter, but there are some things that you really don't want to know."

"...If you're sure," she said, suspicion in her tone. _Maybe I should look into that later... I don't think he's going to tell me, no matter what I say._

The servants were known gossipers, even she, a newcomer, knew that. It wouldn't hurt to ask around while she went to interrogate someone else.

It wasn't long before she came across two maids. Red hair, blonde hair, one engrossed in cleaning a window, the other cleaning up something she had apparently let fall. Well, she guessed they were as good as any. "Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Eh? What's up, kid?" The redheaded one turned around first, while the blonde one continued her work. "You need somethin'?"

"Yes, I need to ask you something. It will only be a minute, I swear. It's about a boy here, I don't know if you've met him. His name's Allen."

"Allen? Y'mean the princess's new _special friend_? What do you want to know about _that_ kid?"

"The princess has friends? I-I mean- What do you mean with special friend? I thought he was just her servant."

The two maids looked at each other, and then broke into giggles.

"Well, he definitely _serves_ her," one of them choked out, barely able to breathe, before her words dissolved into another fit of laughter.

"...I'm afraid I don't understand."

“They're just doing a bit of the old in-out, in-out.”

“Making a beast with two backs.”

“The service of Venus.”

“Doing the Devil’s dance.”

“Gland-to-gland combat.”

“Shooting 'twixt wind and water.”

“Hauling their ashes.”

"...What?"

Actually, some of those sounded vaguely familiar. But, at the same time...

Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to turn away before her stomach revolted, and expelled its contents onto the floor--she could hear one of the maids groaning, "but we just cleaned that," but she didn't care, she didn't care.

They couldn't have meant that, could they?

But even as she thought it, the awful, wicked gleaming in their eyes told her the truth.

That was... disgusting.

And Kyle was marrying that--that--monster?!

Kyle, who was sensitive and fragile and not often all that bright, trying his best to be a good prince but never quite getting it--

With someone _like that?!_

Then again, Kyle wasn't the best judge of character by a long shot. Now, that created a dilemma for the writer. The situation was obviously an open secret for the inhabitants of the palace. The question was, should she tell him what she had discovered?

It might break him. It'd almost certainly break the engagement, and then--well, then there was no way of knowing what would happen.

But to let him find out on his own… That wouldn’t go well at all.

* * *

 

She had gotten somewhat lost when Allen sought her out.

“You went to ask the maids behind my back.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Yukina turned to face the boy that should have been older than her. “I did. You wouldn’t tell me.”

“You’re quite the tattletale, are you not?” She could see cold anger inside those eyes, diminishing fast, apparently not too bothered by her invasion of his privacy. She reflected how strange it was that the princess’ anger burned hot, yet Allen’s burned cold.

Yukina was expecting a lecture about privacy or about rumors, but she didn’t get one. Allen moved away from the ice wall.

She regarded their differences. With only a few days she had spent in the Seelie Court, she had a slight tan that puzzled her father. Felt a bit more energized. Allen, on the other hand, was as pale as a corpse with deep shadows under his eyes. Every time she saw him, she was stuck with the impression he was in the process of dying of cold.

The boy absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. He had already come to terms with that part of his life, yet it was something he never wanted her to know. Not because of the shame, but he didn’t want her to look at him differently, or God forbid, in disgust.

“Allen, I understand why it happened, you didn’t know anything about this realm after all, but that’s exactly what I meant about not getting close to a fae-“

A scolding wasn't something he had expected. It was so far off of the truth that Allen let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Oh, so it's _my_ fault now? For a storyteller, you sure like to talk about things you don't understand,” he hissed icily.

Knowing he was about to leave, Yukina reached into her left pocket. "I have something for-"

"Consider that you have it backwards."

"...Eh?" She blinked, and stared after him, but didn't receive a reply.

What was that about?

* * *

Margarita Blankenheim was next. Yukina didn't know much about her, only that she was a member of the Unseelie Court, that she went by many names, and that her husband wasn't around much. Allen's words and situation kept going to the forefront of her thoughts, and she shook her head to clear her mind. She would interview Margarita, then the judge, then she would either go to Kyle or think of what Allen told her.

Yukina shoved those thoughts back and she went right to where the green-haired woman resided, throwing politeness out of the window. The fae were making her dance to death, she was allowed to be rude.

Margarita was... asleep. She turned onto her side, mumbling something inaudible. The girl stood there, wondering if she should wake her or leave, before cleared her throat. "Mrs. Bankenheim?"

"...unh... I'm awake, I'm awake! Just... just a minute..." she muttered, before moving a little too far to the side and falling right out of bed, landing on the floor with a harsh thud. "Oh!" Her eyes snapped open, and she blinked a few times, looking quite confused. Her long hair was all over the place, including in her eyes, and she pushed it back, blinking yet again. "What...? Who is it?" she asked, still half-asleep.

"I'm Yukina Freezis," the fifteen-year-old girl said. "I'm here to ask you some questions... Sorry for interrupting your nap."

"No, no, it's all right... I get lots of sleep anyway... I don't really have a lot to do these days, with the children gone, all gone..." Her voice trailed off, and she tilted her head to the side slightly, before her face brightened and she beamed at the young girl. "Yukina Freezis? That's such a pretty, pretty name... Oh, you have such lovely hair--" She reached out, then paused, uncertainty crossing her face. "...may I?" she asked, sounding almost like a child herself.

"I... guess?"

"Thank you!" Margarita beamed, and only a moment later was back on the bed, having pulled Yukina up with her. Her hands fiddled with the girl's dark hair, fingers deftly combing through it, humming a soft tune as she did so. "So soft," she praised. "So pretty. Your parents must be very, very proud of you. Mhm, very proud indeed. Parents should always be proud of their precious babies, of course... Did you come here just to talk to me? That's so sweet of you..."

Had she gotten extremely lucky and been taken by a sane faerie? She was beginning to wonder if all them were this odd. "I wanted to know about your life, Mrs. Blankenheim. I'm writing a book, you see."

"Oh! My life... Well, I'm a doctor, you see! I take care of lots and lots of people. I like to help them." She started separating Yukina's hair into strands, weaving them together in a braid. "They look so, so happy. Like my babies used to look. They smile, and laugh, and then they leave... Everyone always leaves. Adam left. Kaspar left. My sweet children left. You're not going to leave, right? I get so lonely. So very lonely. But you won't leave me, will you? I, I'm sure you'd be happy here..."

By now alarm bells were ringing in her head. "I have a family, you see, two siblings...they would miss me if I left-" she hurriedly redirected the conversation, hoping that this woman wasn't someone who would take changelings. The last thing she needed was for Shaw and Aile to end up here.

"...Oh..." Margarita sounded absolutely heartbroken, and her fingers stopped moving for a moment. "I see. But--" Her tone brightened again. "They could come stay here, too! You all could! You'd be happy, I promise, I would make sure of it. Oh, absolutely sure. You'd never worry about anything again, so, why would you want to go back to the human world at all? There's no need for that... You'd be happier here, all of you would." Her movements grew less fluid, a little harsher, and started to pull slightly on Yukina's scalp. "Just... don't ever leave..."

"Prince Kyle told me I have to make some errands- But I-I'll visit you!" She was lying through her teeth, but the woman didn't have to know that, did she?

"...My babies said that... my sweet little twins used to say that." She stopped braiding Yukina's hair, then, her hands lifeless and unmoving. "They left with that awful woman, said _'We'll come and visit you, Mama,'_ but then they never came back, never, ever came back. I was so lonely... Please, can't someone else do those things? I don't want you to leave... Please don't leave me..."

"If I ever see them around, I'll make sure to tell them to visit you," she said, proud of herself when her voice didn't tremble. "What are their names?"

"Oh, would you? That would be lovely," Margarita replied eagerly. "Their names--their names are Hansel and Gretel! Though that woman called them Arte and Pollo... and I think they got different names again... oh, but you'll know them when you see them, they're the most _beautiful_ children. They have the most wonderful golden hair, and their eyes are blue, blue like Adam and Kaspar's eyes, so beautiful, so sweet and charming and funny. They're amazing. My wonderful babies... I love them so much..."

"I'll tell them to come visit you, I promise." Now, if she could just leave, that would be great.

"Thank you, you're such a sweet girl... Oh, are you going to stay longer? Just a little bit longer, please? Just a few more minutes. Or, or would you stay an hour? A day? You don't have to leave right now, do you? You don't, right?"

"I do, I'm sorry." Yukina leaped up.

"N-no you don't," Margarita started, but by then Yukina was already out the door. _"No!"_ Her voice pitched higher, and higher, and even when Yukina had gotten a fair distance away, her gut-wrenching screams and sobs were still audible.

_"Please, please, don't leave me--"_

But eventually, her cries died down, and were replaced by an almost unsettling silence.

That was it. One more and she was done. There had to be sane people in this palace. "Ugh, a pox on me..."

“You’ve met Mama, I see.”

The voice to her left made Yukina whirl around. She recognized one of the maids she had talked to earlier. The blonde one.

She glanced one more time at the door she had just escaped from, before turning her gaze to the older girl. Yukina checked the shape of the girl's ears, a habit she had developed here. Round, like any mortal. “Are you Gretel?”

“Yes and no. My friends call me Ney,” she explained, far too calm in contrast to the giggling girl she had been some time prior.

“Are you a mortal too?”

“My brother and I grew up here. Eve and Adam took care of us. I mean, Margarita,” she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Stars above, faes with changing names are so complicated…”

Raising her eyebrows at the maid, thinking about hypocrites, Yukina walked on.

She had expected to find the judge in the courtroom, not wandering the hallways. The blue haired man (who, Yukina noted, bore more than a passing resemblance to Kyle and Carlos) and a green-haired girl -young woman, perhaps- behind him.

Her eyes flickered to her ears. _Round. _Still wary because of her experience with Margarita, she slowly approached the duo.__

____

The man in black turned, tilting his head slightly and looking down at her with a gaze that fell somewhere between disdain and curiosity. "Yes?"

____

"Gallerian Marlon, Judge of the Unseelie Court? I'm Yukina Freezis, ward of the Seelie Court." She curtsied for good measure. "I am writing a book and am quite interested in how faeries live, as well as how the law differs from the mortal one."

____

His face softened ever-so-slightly. "Well, you're respectful, at least. A young woman should always know proper manners, whether she be mortal or fae." The green-haired girl behind him made an audible noise of disgust at this, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Writing a book, you say? What an... interesting pursuit, for a girl of your age. You seem rather ambitious."

____

"Thank you." Yukina smiled. "This will be my third book published. But enough about me. Could you tell me something about yourself?"

____

"Your _third?!_ " His eyes widened for a moment. "You are quite the ambitious one, aren't you? Very well. With determination like that, how could I say no?" He smiled--a very faint smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Is there anything in specific you would like to know?"

____

"Your life, your family, how the Unseelie Court handles law matters. Do you and the princess discuss the final verdict or something like that?"

____

"The princess trusts me to make the correct decisions," he replied immediately. The green-haired girl muttered something inaudible, and he leveled a curt glare at her. "Control yourself, please," he said acidly, to which she just rolled her eyes again, folding her arms in a clearly contemptuous manner.

____

"I see." she looked to the girl. "Is she your daughter?" even though she obviously wasn't, she didn't know how else to breach the issue of family. It seemed to be a sensitive subject among fae. Kayo and Margarita, to name a few.

____

"Ugh, no," the girl replied, her face twisting into a scowl. "I'd rather die. If this guy was my father, I'd have no recourse but to destroy the entire world, because it clearly no longer deserves to exist."

____

What an extremist view. She guessed she wasn’t treated well, like Allen.

____

"So you're his guest, Miss...?"

____

"Eight. Themis Eight. And you could say that, I suppose. For a given value of 'guest', at least."

____

Yukina’s eyes went from him to her, and she made a decision. “I’ll leave you be, as I’m sure you must be busy.” She walked fifteen steps away from them before pausing. “How do I get to the exit from here?”

____

As she heard the judge commanding Themis to help her, she inwardly grinned. As soon as she was close, she put a hand in her pocket, though not before checking to make sure that she was at an angle such that their exchange wouldn’t be seen.

____

“I think I have something that can help you,” she whispered before the woman could get a word out. “My father is a merchant.”

____

The woman felt something cold and solid slide into her hand. She didn’t dare look down.

____

“I stole it before I was taken again. It’s an awl. It’s iron.”

____

Themis’ eyebrows shot up.

____

Yukina put a finger to her lips. “It will hurt him. Not kill him, it’s not big enough. But if you use it at the right time…” it was fine, she told herself. She could always steal another. She could still help Allen too.

____

She could fix this.

____


End file.
